


LARP and the Real Girls

by amandateaches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s08e11 LARP and the Real Girl, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Near Death Experiences, Reader-Insert, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandateaches/pseuds/amandateaches
Summary: What would Episode 8x11- LARP and the Real Girl have been like with another cop around to catch Dean’s eye?





	LARP and the Real Girls

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time doing an episode rewrite and it’s of the Season 8 episode: LARP and the Real Girl. It’s an exact rewrite of the episode with a reader character added in, so that’s why it’s so long, but the words are definitely worth it. I hope y’all like my twist on it! 
> 
> Caveat: much of the dialogue in this fic was taken directly from the script. All credit goes to the Supernatural writers!

Before you’d worked in Farmington Hills, Michigan, you’d been a detective in New York City. If anyone had asked, you would’ve sworn you’d seen it all- every grisly way to murder someone known to man. But this, this one was new.

Even to you.

Ed Nelson, a seemingly mild-mannered nerd of an insurance-claims adjuster had literally been torn apart - in his own bedroom. You and your boss, Sheriff Jake Miller, had been the first on scene, but that hadn’t lasted for long. Not after the arrival of two incredibly sexy FBI agents.

You were immediately on guard. “So, Agents Taggart and Rosewood, what exactly brings the two of you to our small-town crime scene?”

“Now, hold up there, Y/N,” Sheriff Miller drawled out. “I’m sure these boys just want to help. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” the taller one, Agent Taggart, said respectfully. “We’re just here to help.”

You snorted derisively. “Yeah, I bet.”

The slightly shorter, yet still towering man, let out a quiet chuckle under his breath. When you shot him a glare, he had the gall to wink at you.

“And, you can call us Sam and Dean,” Agent Taggart continued, before he turned to your boss. “So, Sheriff, how about that tour I asked for?”

“He can do that,” you answered qucikly. “But, only if I keep your partner company while he does.”

“I work better on my own,” Dean replied, that cocky smile still gracing his face.

“Well, good for you, Agent, but as long as you’re in my crime scene, you’re going to be staying with me. Got it?”

His smile widened as he dropped his gaze to the ground. “Whatever you say, Officer.”

Sam and the Sheriff took off to the bedroom, while you followed Dean into the kitchen. You paused for just a second to admire the way he walked, his legs slightly bowed in the middle, before you noticed the strange device he was holding. It had a long antenna and bright flashing lights on it.

“What in the world is that thing?”

He looked back at you for a brief moment before answering. “Oh this? It’s just one of those high-tech FBI things.”

You laughed softly as a smile spread across your face. “High-tech, FBI things, huh? What does it do?”

“It measures, um, EMF.”

“Like from thunderstorms?”

“Yeah,” he said, agreeing a little too easily. “Thunderstorms.”

“Mmhmm….” you whispered, moving to stand by him. “And, that’s relevant how?”

“It’s, uh, it’s not,” he stammered, quickly closing the device and shoving it back into his suit pocket. “Let’s go meet the others.”

“Whatever you say,” you whispered under your breath as you followed him out the room. That was a little weird.

As you joined Sam and Sheriff Miller in the victim’s bedroom, you saw Dean discreetly shake his head at his partner, but you tore your attention away from them to listen to your boss share what he’d learned about the victim’s last call with Lance Jacobsen. “The two of them talked together for 15 minutes, and then Lance sent Ed here all kinds of angry texts. Some of them were your typical threat stuff, but some were a little weird.”

“Weird how?” Sam asked.

“Like, uh… ‘You shall bleed for your crimes against us,’ followed by the emoticon of a skull. And, uh, this beauty – ‘I am a mage. I will destroy you.’ These kids today with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning.

Sam started to open his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Then, let’s get down there and talk to him.” You started to walk towards the door before turning back to the men. “You coming, Agents?”

Dean smiled again, making your heart instinctively skip a beat. “Oh, we wouldn’t miss it for the world, Officer.”

Once you’d made it back to the station’s interrogation room, you let Sam and Dean take charge. If the FBI agents so badly wanted to run this case, then you’d let them. That was, until the point where they inevitably messed up and you had to take over.

Like, right about now, when your suspect was blubbering all over your interrogation table.

“Lance?” Dean asked, in a gruff attempt to calm him down. “Lance, just – just breathe. Just breathe. You’re fine.”

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Sam added. “Try to calm down.”

You smiled comfortingly at Lance as he somehow managed to take a deep breath and wipe his eyes, but you mostly stayed quiet while Sam and Dean questioned him about his texts.

“No,” Lance yelled antsily. “I mean, they were from me, but they weren’t from me me!”

Dean frowned at him while you struggled to hold in your laugh. “Did you really think that sentence was gonna clear things up?”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said with a sigh. “This is all a big misunderstanding. Those text messages were from Greyfox the Mystic to Thargrim the Difficult.” When he noticed the confused looks on your faces, he elaborated. “Our characters in Moondoor. Moondoor is a game that Ed and I play. We’re LARPers. Live-action role-playing?”

“Right,” Dean muttered. “LARPing. Good times.”

“We play Moondoor every other weekend at Heritage Park. All the info about it is on our website.”

You suddenly stood up from where you had been leaning against the wall. “Wait a second. Did you say Moondoor?”

“Uh…yes,” Lance whispered, clearly a little freaked out by your abrupt interest.

“Your queen at this Moondoor wouldn’t happen to be Carrie Heinlein, would it?”

Lance visibly brightened at the sound of her name. “Why, yes! That’s our beloved queen.”

Your heart dropped. “Dammit,” you whispered before fleeing the room without another word.

Once you’d made it out into the hallway, you pulled out the phone and speed dialed your friend’s number as fast as you could. “Carrie, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this please. It’s important. Seriously important.”

“Everything okay?” Dean asked as he closed the interrogation room door to join you in the hallway. “You seemed pretty upset just now.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled. You started to wave him off but then reconsidered. “It’s just, Carrie, the queen, she’s my roommate and best friend. I knew she did this Moondoor thing on the weekends, but I didn’t know exactly what it was all about.” You paused for a second, a hitch coming into your throat. “If she really knew the victim, she’s going to be devastated.”

Dean reached out and placed a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “It’s just, if she knew these guys, I want to be the one to tell her about Ed’s death before anyone else can. I owe her that.”

As you felt Dean squeeze your arm gently, you looked down at his hand and then back into his warm, comforting eyes. There was just something about him, something different, something magnetizing.

FBI agent or not, he was impossible to resist.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Sam exited the interrogation room, breaking the two of you apart. “You two okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you muttered, trying to wet your suddenly dry mouth. “What now, Agents?”

“Let’s check out the Moondoor website,” Sam said. “See if Lance’s story checks out.”

Dean cleared his throat and looked away from you quickly. “Good plan, Sammy. Let’s do that.”

“Okay…” Sam whispered hesitantly, clearly sensing the strange vibe that hung between you and Dean. “Let’s, uh, let’s go then.”

You all but ran to your desk computer and pulled up the Moondoor website. Sam and Dean took up positions on either side of you, with Dean leaning just a little too close for comfort. “So, uh, here it is.”

Sam leaned down to read over your shoulder. “Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan’s largest LARPing game.”

Dean scoffed slightly, his breath right next to your ear, sending shivers down your body. “And I thought we needed to get out more.”

You clicked on the picture gallery, scrolling through until you found pictures of Lance at last night’s feast.

“There’s our guy,” Sam stated.

“I guess that officially means he couldn’t have killed Ed,” you mumbled, scrolling through a few more pictures.

“Huh,” Dean chucked. “It actually looks kind of awesome.”

Sam shot Dean a look, but you couldn’t help but agree. Carrie had been begging you to join Moondoor for months, but you’d never had the time. Looking at the pictures now, you kind of regretted that choice.

“All right, there’s a video,” Sam said. “Let’s watch it.”

You pulled it up and let it play, pausing only when it got to an image of your roommate.

Dean stared at the screen in disbelief. “Wait, is that…”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered. “It’s Charlie.”

“Charlie?” you echoed incredulously. “No, no, that’s my roommate. That’s Carrie.”

Dean and Sam shared another look before turning back to you. “Y/N, I think we need to have a little talk.”

“Wait just one second,” you yelled as you paced back and forth in the small break room that was the only place in the entire station where the three of you could have some privacy. “You’re saying Carrie’s real name is Charlie?”

Sam shrugged slightly. “Well, that’s not technically her real name, but that was her name when we worked our case with her.”

“I don’t believe this!”

“Well, it’s true, Y/N, whether you like it or not,” Dean said, a bit of an edge coming into his voice. “Charlie helped us out with a case about a year ago and then she disappeared. I guess she came here.”

“Why would she lie to me? I’m her best friend!”

“It’s complicated,” Dean admitted. “The case we worked together was…unusual. After it was over, Charlie couldn’t use her name anymore.”

“So, what? She’s like in witness protection or something?”

Sam smiled and flashed Dean a knowing look. “Something like that.”

Before you could ask them what the hell they meant by that, Sheriff Miller burst in the room. “Y/N, Agents, come quick! It’s Lance. He’s dead.”

By the time you, Sam, and Dean had seen the body and watched the surveillance video, it had become abundantly clear that the only thing that connected these two deaths was Moondoor and the strange tree tattoo on both of the victims’ arms. There was only one course of action left to take: head to Moondoor and talk to Carrie, or Charlie, or whatever the hell her name was.

The three of you arrived at the Moondoor Camp by late morning. You’d been there a few times before, but only ever briefly and with Carrie. Darn it, Charlie.

By all outward appearances, it was like your basic Renaissance fair, except all of the people there were pretending that they actually lived in Medieval times. Dozens of people were milling around, but your attention was drawn to a man standing in front of the stocks. You rolled your eyes once you recognized him. “Gerry…”

Dean looked over at you and then back at the man standing in front of an imprisoned Shadow Orc. “What, you know that guy?”

“I guess you could say that. He tries to pick me up every time I’m here. Fancies himself a real ladies man.”

Dean laughed. “He’s not, I assume?”

“You assume correctly,” you agreed with a soft smile, earning another heart-stopping wink from Dean.

After concluding his business, Gerry began to walk away, but Dean stopped him. “Excuse me. Hi. Uh, you are a LARPer, yeah?”

“I prefer the term ‘interactive literaturist,’” Gerry said before he noticed you. “Ah, Lady Y/N! You have returned.”

You frowned. “Hi, Gerry.”

Gerry flourished his hands dramatically. “I do not know this Gerry of who you speak. My name is Boltar the Furious!”

You rolled your eyes while Dean continued. “Right. Uh, I’m Special Agent Rosewood. This is special Agent Taggart.”

“Hold!” Gerry yelled. He pulled down the hood of his costume and dropped the pomp and circumstance in his voice. “Um, guys, we’re not doing the whole genre-mash-up thing this weekend. We only do that every third month.”

“It’s not a genre mash-up, Gerry,” you groaned. “This is serious police business. We need to see Carrie.”

“Serious police business?” Gerry scoffed. “With those fake badges?”

“These aren’t fake badges,” Sam said quickly.

Gerry smiled smugly. “Uh, yeah, they are, and they’re very good, but, um, well, the I.D. number shifted to 10 digits with, uh, two letters mixed in at the end of the year, and, uh, the seal’s from last month. Really good work.”

You looked questioningly at Dean as Gerry continued. “It’s just – it’s a tournament weekend, okay guys, so you got to follow the rules. If there’s no rules – chaos. Resume!” he yelled, before pulling his hood back on. “If you would like to join the army of Moons, the queen is always on the lookout for new squires.”

“Yes,” Dean said. “Right. Uh, we would like to see your queen now, please.”

“Well, the queen’s calendar is booked up months in advance. But if you wish to witness what’s in store for you in her army, her highness is overseeing new squires on the pitch as we speak.”

Sam and Dean nodded and started to walk away, but you grabbed their arms and pulled them aside. “Woah, woah, woah, Agents. Is what he said true? Are those fake badges?”

Sam looked down at the ground while Dean smiled at you sheepishly. “Uh, kinda, but we’ll explain everything, I swear.”

“I can’t believe this!” you yelled. “Did you know I could arrest the both of you right now for impersonating an FBI agent?”

“We know,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “But, just give us a chance to explain, please. I promise, once we find Charlie, everything will make sense.”

“It better,” you growled. “Or I’m going to haul the both of you right back down to the station, this time, in cuffs.”

You led the way up to the practice field where Charlie was overseeing the swordfighting. You recognized her right away, easily defeating all of the other squires with her favorite sword, but you didn’t make a move towards her. A part of you wanted to cheer for her, but, with the uncertain place that everything stood, you didn’t really know if you should.

So, instead, you, Sam, and Dean decided to wait by the edge of the field for Charlie to finish her fight. As soon as she defeated her opponent and removed her helmet, the crowd broke into cheers.

She began to address the crowd about the missing men. In the middle of her address, she spotted you and flashed a smile, but, the second she saw Sam and Dean, her face fell. “Oh, blerg,” she muttered before turning back to the crowd. “Uh… The queen needs some royal ‘we’ time. Talk amongst thyselves.”

Charlie stalked away to her tent, signaling you to follow her, but you stopped when Dean bent down to pick up the foam sword. “Nice balance,” he muttered in awe.

“Dean!” you chastigized, drawing his attention. “Two dead men, remember?”

“Right,” he whispered, still holding onto the sword. “Let’s go.”

Once you reached the tent, Charlie turned to you with a plastered-on smile. “Y/N! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you, Carrie, or should I call you Charlie?”

“So, they told you,” she moaned as she sent Sam and Dean a glare.

“Yeah, they told me. Why didn’t you?! I thought we were best friends.”

“We are, Y/N! That’s why I couldn’t tell you. It’s…it’s…it’s…”

“Complicated. I know, I know.”

“It’s way more than complicated! Those two,” she yelled, gesturing at Sam and Dean, “are the reason I had to become Carrie Heinlein. They killed Charlie Bradbury and now they’ve killed this identity too.”

You started to say something, but you were lost. “Wait what?”

Charlie turned to glare at Sam and Dean, her hands on her hips. “I guess you didn’t tell her everything.”

“No,” Dean said with a sheepish smile. “We figured we’d leave that to you.”

“Would someone just tell me?!” you exploded before the energy suddenly drained out of you, making you plop down into a nearby chair.

Charlie sat down in front of you, a look of compassion on her face. “Y/N, these two aren’t actually FBI agents.”

“Well, I knew that much. Who are they?”

“They’re monster hunters.”

You dropped your jaw. “They’re what?”

“Monster hunters. And, if they’re here, that means monsters are here.” She turned to face Sam and Dean. “Why do I have such bad luck? What am I – some kind of monster magnet? Is there such a thing as a monster magnet? You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken… or dying.”

“I’m so confused…” you whispered.

“Well, you won’t be for long,” Charlie vowed. “Because we’re leaving before these two get us wrapped up in whatever monster hunt they’re on. I’m dropping my sword and walking off the stage, bitches. Have fun storming the castle.”

“Charlie. Charlie!” Dean yelled, drawing her attention. “You can’t leave. Neither of you can. Greyfox and Thargrim – uh, Ed and Lance – they’re not missing. They’re dead.”

Charlie turned to look at you, and, despite the lies, your heart went out to your best friend. “They’re right, Charlie. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I do know this: two men are dead and it’s my job to catch their killer. I need help.” You stopped and looked at Sam and Dean. “From all of you.”

“Drawn and quartered and bleeding out?” Charlie shuddered at the table the four of you were sitting around. “Please stop talking again. So what do you think did this?

Dean frowned. “Well, aside from the, uh, mark, and them both being LARPers, there’s really not much else to go on.”

Charlie picked up the picture of the tree symbol on the victims’ arms. “Wait, I’ve seen this before. It’s a Celtic magic symbol. At least it was in my favorite video game. Does that help? Can Y/N and I go now?”

Sam shook his head. “It’s a start, but no. Um, listen. What can you tell us about Ed and Lance?”

Charlie shrugged. “Good guys. Two of the best members of the queen’s ever-shrinking army.”

“‘Ever-shrinking’?” you asked.

Charlie nodded. “My kingdom has had a lot of bad luck lately, probably ‘cause of me, but maybe it’s tied to this. A month ago, one of my guys had both her ankles broken before battle. Before that, I had three people have hospital-worthy accidents while at home. You think there’s any connection there?”

You and Dean looked at each other and shared a subtle nod while Sam continued the questioning. “Did they have any enemies in common?”

“In real life? No. Everyone gets along famously. In the game, though…” Charlie got up and walked over to the map of Moondoor. “…they had tons of enemies. Red reps the followers of the Moon – my peeps. Green’s for Elves, blue’s for Warriors of Yesteryear, and black’s for Shadow Orcs – total d-bags. This weekend is the Battle of the Kingdoms to see who wears the Forever Crown. This weekend, each faction is definitely an enemy of me and mine.”

Dean stared at the board in excitement. “You know, if you, uh, move your archers back and your broadswordsmen to the west…

Charlie stared where he was gesturing, her excitement growing to match his. “Huh. Fight the warriors.”

“Yep.”

“Hey, good call.”

“Thanks,” Dean said with a smile.

“What about the southern wall?”

“Guys!” you and Sam yelled at the same time. “A little focus please?”

“Right. Sorry,” Dean said, while Charlie looked down sheepishly.

Sam took over the talking while Dean and Charlie continued to quietly move the figures around on the map. “So maybe, uh, someone from one of the other kingdoms got ahold of real magic and started using it to weaken your army.”

“But why not just come after me?” Charlie asked. “And why the escalation?”

“We don’t know,” you responded. “That’s what we need to find out.”

“And by we,” Dean announced, “you mean Sam and me. We will canvass the kingdoms. The two of you should get out of here. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Whoa, wait,” Sam said, holding up his hand. “Charlie knows Moondoor a lot better than we do. We need her. And, Y/N’s a cop. She could help.”

“Sam, I think we can take care of a bunch of accountants with foam swords.”

“We need all the help we can get, Dean,” Sam argued back. “People are dying.”

“My point,” Dean stressed, “which is usually yours, is that they should get somewhere safe and get back to a normal life.”

You decided to push back. “Hey, wait just a minute, Dean. This is my case. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to leave,” Charlie admitted, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Thank you,” Dean announced triumphantly.

“Wait second, Winchester. I want to leave, but the queen, she has to stay. I mean, Sam is right. People are dying. That can’t happen on my watch. And you know what? I am tired of running. I like my life here.” She moved to stand by you. “I like my life with Y/N. I’m gonna stay and fight for it.”

You smiled gratefully at her as Sam’s phone rang. He spoke briefly on it before hanging up. “So, the toxicology report came back on Lance. Nothing. But the medical examiner said his body showed clear signs that he was killed by belladonna.”

“The porn star?” Dean and Charlie asked simultaneously.

“No, not the porn star,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes.

“The poison,” Sam added.

“Oh,” Dean and Charlie said, again shrugging simultaneously.

You rolled your eyes even harder this time as Sam continued. “Um, however, they couldn’t find a trace of it in his system.”

Dean nodded. “Just like they couldn’t find ropes in Ed’s apartment.”

Sam turned to look at Charlie. “Charlie, I’m gonna need to borrow your laptop.”

Charlie shook her head. “There are no laptops in Moondoor.”

“I knew I didn’t join this thing for a reason,” you muttered.

“What?” Charlie yelled. “There are rules.” She sent a wink your way. “But there is a tech tent four tents down.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “How about you guys go canvas, and I’ll dig into these accidents and this mark?”

“Okay. I’m gonna need the full wiki on where you guys have been. But first,” she added, turning to Dean and you, “you’re gonna have to ditch the suits if you’re gonna walk and talk with the queen.

A little less than half an hour later, you were standing in a small alcove off of Charlie’s main tent, adjusting the pleats on your long, medieval dress. “Why does Charlie get to wear pants but I have to wear a dress?” you grumbled.

You took a deep breath before walking back out into the main room where Dean and Charlie were waiting. Dean had his back to you, but he still took your breath away in his outfit.

His form-fitting pants hugged his lean legs, highlighting the muscles he built up from years of physical activity, or hunting as you’d learned. Your eyes travelled up his toned, tunic-covered back and swept over the chainmail and arm guards that somehow made him seem even more ruggedly handsome.

You let out a labored breath as you continued to stare at him. Boy, were you in trouble here….

Before you could think anything else, Charlie noticed you and smiled. “Y/N, good! You’re ready.”

Dean turned to meet your eyes and you could hear him breathe out a strangled wow the moment he saw you. Well, at least you were having just as much of an effect on him as he had on you.

You flashed him a smile. “Hey, Dean. Nice outfit.”

“Right back at you,” he said with a grin.

Charlie moved her gaze between the two of you with a sly smile and a raise of her eyebrow. “Wow, you two, get a room!”

“CHARLIE!” you yelled, while Dean smiled and looked down with a blush. “What the hell?!”

“Oh, come on, like it wasn’t obvious,” she mumbled under her breath.

You shook your head and gave her a pointed glare as the two of you followed Dean out of the tent. Dean stopped briefly to pick up a wooden sword before the three of you continued on with Charlie as your guide.

You hung back a little during the walk, scanning the crowd as you listened to Dean and Charlie catch up. You kept your face neutral, smiling only when you overheard Dean call Charlie a hero. You knew that even though the only thing you knew for sure about Dean was that he had lied to you, you instinctively trusted that he was a good man. Moments like this just reinforced that.

Charlie stopped frequently on her way around the camp, asking people here and there if they recognized the picture of the tree symbol. She seemed to be hitting all the major groups: the followers of the Moon, the elves, and the warriors. The only group she hadn’t asked were the Shadow Orcs.

“The Shadow Orcs,” Charlie said. “Last group on the list, impossible to find.”

“Wait,” Dean said, suddenly remembering something. “I know where we can find one. We met him on the way in, Y/N, remember? The guy in the stocks.”

“Yeah,” you answered with a smile. “The guy with the fake teeth.”

Charlie grinned right along with you. “Perfect. Maybe he can tell us what the frack this thing is.”

You, Dean, and Charlie took off towards the stocks where the Shadow Orc, Monty, was still locked up. “Death to the queen! Death to the usurper!” he yelled forcefully.

Dean drew his wooden sword and hit the stocks with it, earning a growl and a “Death to her manservant!” from the Orc and a surprised look from Charlie.

“What?” Dean asked, looking at Charlie. “Well, there’s no laptops in Moondoor, there’s no Geneva Convention, either.”

“I’m with Dean,” you agreed with a nod, leading him to flash Charlie a self-satisfied smile before he turned back to Monty and held out the picture of the tree symbol. “Hey. Have you seen this?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly before realizing what he’d said and trying to backpedal. “No. No, I haven’t seen it.”

Dean immediately put his sword under Monty’s chin, causing Monty to let out a startled cry. You leaned down and looked him right in the eye, offering him a small smile. “Hey, I’d answer his questions if I were you. He doesn’t exactly respond well to being lied to.”

“Okay,” Monty yelled in a panic. “It’s the Shadow King’s family crest.” Then, he remembered his role, getting his Shadow Orc bravado back. “You’ll never find him in the Black Hills.”

Dean turned to Charlie. “Black Hills?”

“The forest behind the playground. Come on,” she answered, tapping Dean on the arm before walking away. You threw Monty a whispered ‘thank you’ before you and Dean rushed to follow her into the forest.

Once you were partway down the path, Gerry, the man who had helped you when you’d first arrived rushed over to the three.

“My queen. There you are. I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” He turned and looked at you with another appraising smile. “Ah, Lady Y/N. It brings me pleasure to see that you have decided to stick around.”

“I’m sure it does, Gerry,” you muttered indifferently.

“The name is Boltar the Furious!” he shouted angrily before he realized who he was talking to. He paused to regain his composure and turned back to Charlie, nodding his head in Dean’s direction. “Has this… oaf attempted to harm you with his blasphemous metalworks?”

Charlie frowned and brushed him off. “Boltar, he’s with me. This is my new… handmaiden. We seek an audience with the Shadow King.”

Gerry dropped his mouth and shook his head in surprise. “Uh, these hills are not safe. I beseech you, my queen, you should return to camp.”

Dean nodded and turned to face Charlie formally. “He’s right… your worshipfulness. Uh, may I have a moment before you take your leavings?”

Charlie agreed and the three of you walked away from Gerry so Dean could drop the act. “Handmaiden?”

“He was suspicious. I panicked,” Charlie insisted as you broke into laughter.

With a long sigh, Dean ignored you and kept right on talking to Charlie. “All right, look,” he growled. “You take my phone. Find Sam. Y/N and I will find the shadow dorks.”

“But I can help!” Charlie assured.

“Yeah, you are helping by finding Sam. Y/N and I will handle this. Now, go.”

You waited for Charlie to walk away before you and Dean turned back to Gerry. Dean flashed him a smile. “Lead the way to the Orcs, Bolty.”

Gerry frowned. “Speak when spoken to, handmaiden.”

“Shut up, Gerry,” you snapped, earning a laugh from Dean and a grimace from Gerry. “Just take us to the Orcs.”

An hour later, you, Dean, and Gerry were on your way back to camp, having made no progress in your search for the Shadow Orcs.

“Well, that was a bust,” Dean groaned. “You sure the Shadow Orcs are even out there?”

“For a handmaiden, you certainly ask many questions,” Gerry chided. “Yes, I am positive. They’re just very good at hiding themselves.”

“So, what do we do now?” you asked, brushing the forest dirt off of your dress.

Gerry smiled triumphantly. “A plan has sprung to mind that will draw the Shadow King to us. We shall take the Shadow Orc held in stock, offer him up as a prisoner exchange.”

Dean grinned. “Draw him out and beat him down. I like your style, Boltar.”

“Y/N and I shall retrieve the prisoner. You,” he added, gesturing at Dean, “tend to the queen’s laundry and chamber pots, and then meet us back here.”

“Um,” you interjected, holding up your hand, “I think I’ll stick with Dean.”

Gerry frowned. “If you must,” he acquiesced before walking away just as Sam was walking up.

“Nice outfit,” Sam remarked with a laugh as he took in Dean’s costume.

“You love it.”

Sam turned to smile at you. “Y/N, you look beautiful.”

“Why, thank you, Sam,” you replied with a blush.

Dean immediately frowned and stepped closer to you. “Stop flirting and get on with it, Sammy.”

“Right,” Sam said, smiling and backing off. “Well, while you were, uh, playing dress-up, I found out that the mark…”

“Belongs to the Shadow Orcs,” Dean finished with a smile.

“Yeah. And they’re using fairy magic.”

“What, like real fairy magic?” you asked. “Are you guys serious?”

“Deadly,” Sam answered. “Whoever gets marked with this ‘Tree of Pain’ gets magically ganked.”

“Oh my gosh…” you whispered, holding your head in pain. “I’m gonna need a serious drink when this is all over.”

Dean placed a comforting hand on your shoulder before turning back to Sam. “All right, how do we stop it?”

“Find whoever cast the spell, and take them out. No more whammy, no more marks. No more marks, no more dead bodies.”

“Okay, well, perfect,” Dean announced. “Our, uh, pal, Boltar the chatty, is getting the, uh, Shadow Orc prisoner. We’re gonna do a little prisoner exchange, try to draw the king out of hiding.” He stopped to smile. “It was my idea.”

“Yeah, sure it was,” you scoffed, earning a surprised glare from Dean.

Sam, on the other hand, ignored your comment and looked back and forth between the two of you, as if only just realizing that someone was missing. “Where’s Charlie?”

“What’re you talking about?” you asked, suddenly alarmed. “Isn’t she with you?”

“She was with you.”

Dean shook his head emphatically. “No, I sent her to you.” Noticing Sam’s blank expression, he began to walk around frantically, calling out for your friend. “Charlie? Your highness?”

He checked her tent before turning back to Sam. “You know what – she’s got my phone. Try it.”

Sam pulled out his phone and pressed a button, shaking his head when there was no answer.

“Well, then where the hell is she?” Dean yelled, looking at you with a worried expression.

What had happened to Charlie?

Gerry and Monty the Orc had rounded up some flashlights in exchange for joining your search through the forest for Charlie. Gerry, knowing the terrain, led the way, while Monty, Dean, Sam, and you followed.

“I swear, if anything’s happened to her…” Dean declared threateningly.

“It’ll be okay,” you whispered to him. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.” Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his hand for comfort. He looked down at it in surprise, but, before you could rethink your decision and pull your hand away, he returned your squeeze, interlacing his fingers with yours.

You were too startled to do anything more than put one foot in front of the other as Sam took over the talking. “Dude, we checked all the tents. We’ll talk to these guys. We’ll find her.”

As Gerry and the others stopped in a small clearing, Dean released your hand and straightened up. He opened his mouth to speak until he was interrupted by Monty, the Shadow Orc, cawing like a bird.

“Uh…what is he doing?” you asked softly, but before anyone could answer, similar bird calls echoed back through the trees and three Shadow Orcs stepped into the clearing.

“Well, that answers that question,” Dean muttered with a laugh as Gerry took the lead with the questioning.

“Greetings, heretics.”

“You should kneel before me, cur,” snapped the Orc with the Tree of Pain crest on his tunic.

Dean stepped forward, clearly growing annoyed with the play-acting. “All right, why don’t you let me…”

“Silence!” Gerry yelled, making Dean stop in surprise. “Now, before we exchange, a few announcements.” Gerry dropped his exaggerated voice as the Orc removed his fake teeth. “Um, there is a peewee-league soccer playoff game tomorrow on the alpha field. We don’t want to freak out the mundanes, so we got to move the Battle of Kingdoms to the beta field.”

“Seriously, Gerry!” you yelled. “My best friend is missing! Could you focus?!”

“All right. That’s it,” Dean growled, drawing his gun. “You know what? I’m gonna do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Dean, don’t,” Sam warned.

“What?”

“Come on…” he pleaded.

Dean frowned, clearly past annoyance. “No, I’m –”

Gerry stepped forward to diffuse the situation, ignoring your signal to stay out of it. “I told you there are –”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped before stepping forward and pointing his gun at the Orc. “All right. I need real answers. This here is a real gun, see?”

To emphasize his point, Dean shot at the ground.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the Orc cried, holding up his hands. “Hold! Hold! Geez!”

You stepped up and put your hand on Dean’s back. “Okay, Dean, I think he gets the point.”

Dean lowered his gun slightly but kept his eyes on the Orc. “Now, start talking. Where’s the queen?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Yeah, well, your little family crest there tells a different story, pal.”

The Orc looked down at his shirt in disbelief. “This?”

“Yeah,” Dean said sarcastically. “That.”

You stepped forward, ignoring the appreciative stares from the Orcs as you did. Dean, on the other hand, growled at them in warning. “Where did you get the design for that crest?”

“Uh, I got sick last month after this thing just appeared on my arm. I thought it looked really cool, so I turned it into my family crest. I mean, after my dermatologist said it wasn’t malignant.”

Sam stepped forward to join the two of you. “Dean, he’s not our guy. He’s just another vic.”

The Orc nodded vigorously. “My name is Max Hilby. I’m an attorney. I have no idea where the queen is, but if you let me go right now, I won’t press charges. I promise. Um…” He paused to take of his fake ears and hold them out to Dean. “Here. Uh, take them. Please.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you replied. “You can leave now. This is official police business.”

When the Orcs hesitated, Dean waved his gun to the side. “Go. Go! Go!”

The three Orcs took off running and you and Dean turned to face Sam, Gerry, and Monty. Monty took out his fake teeth, his face falling when he met your eyes. “Is the queen really in danger?”

Dean nodded, leading Monty to straighten up with resolve. “Okay, we got – there was something odd down by the creek. It’s this weird tent. It’s not one of ours. It’s kind of creepy.”

“Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?” Sam asked.

“Look, I harbor an epic crush on the queen,” Monty admitted. “Maybe you could put in a good word for me when you find her.”

“I don’t think you’re her type,” Dean said with a smile as you laughed in agreement.

“What?” Monty asked, clearly confused. “You mean she’s not into Orcs?”

You rolled your eyes and drew his focus back in. “Monty, this creepy tent you mentioned. Where exactly is it?”

A few minutes later, you, Dean, and Sam, had ditched Monty and were well on your way to the tent. Unfortunately, unlike Monty, Gerry wasn’t so easily deterred.

Dean glanced back at him, a frustrated look on his face. “Why don’t you take off, Bolty? We got it from here.”

“Yeah,” you added. “We can handle this.”

“A handmaiden and a time traveler rescue the queen? I think not, kind lady.”

Sam grimaced. “Look, this isn’t a game, Boltar. The queen, our friend, is in real danger. You could get hurt.”

“I will not leave my queen in peril!” Gerry announced, but, before you could argue any further, the four of you arrived at the tent: too late to turn back now.

Dean and Sam pushed the flap aside and entered the tent quickly, leading the way with their guns drawn. You were expecting to see Charlie tied up, or worse, but you definitely weren’t expecting what you saw: Charlie sitting on the bed, full-on making out with her captor.

Dean loudly cleared his throat, breaking them apart.

“Dudes. If the tent is rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.”

You stepped forward. “Charlie! You’re hooking up?! What? We thought you were in danger.”

“I was,” Charlie insisted as her companion got to her feet.

“No, it’s him! My master! Run!”

“What are you talking about…” you whispered as the three of you turned back to look at Gerry, who was removing his hood. Too slowly, you realized what the woman meant: Gerry was the one behind all of this.

Dean and Sam raised their guns, but Gerry acted faster. “No guns in Moondoor, gentlemen. Gilda, if you please?”

The woman’s face fell, but she quickly moved her hand, turning the guns into feathers that fell to the ground.

Dean lifted his hands up and moved to step in front of you. “Well, now what, Gerry?”

Gerry’s face scrunched up in anger. “My name is Boltar the Furious! My plan was, after getting rid of all of my competition, to win the battle tomorrow, convincing the queen that I should be her king.”

Charlie sighed and rolled her eyes before looking at Gilda.

“But then Y/N and you two idiots showed up, and I was forced to improvise. Rescue the damsel in distress from Orcs, become king, kill you both – that’ll work, too.”

“What about me, Boltar?” you asked, stepping past Dean to turn on the charm. “You gonna kill me too?”

“I could never do that, Y/N. I’ll just wipe your memory, right along with the queen’s. Then, you can return to Moondoor at our side! Every king needs a mistress.”

“Ew, gross…” Charlie muttered as Dean grabbed you and pushed you back behind him.

“You can’t have her,” he growled menacingly.

“You won’t have much of a say when you’re dead, now, will you, handmaiden?”

Dean glared and stepped forward, but Sam stopped him with a raised hand. “So why did you go from hobbling to murder?”

Gerry refocused his attention, flashing back to his plan. “Greyfox and Thargrim became part of the honor guard. They got close to the queen, but they did it by breaking the rules – paying off other players with real money, rather than Moondoor currency. They were cheating.”

“Oh, and using magic isn’t?” Dean snapped.

“Magic is a part of Moondoor.”

Charlie stepped forward, suddenly angry. You tried to grab her arm, but she evaded you. “What is your problem? Why would you hurt people? This is just a game.”

“There is no game!” Gerry shouted. “There is only Moondoor! I came here to be different, to get away from my crappy life, to be a hero, and guess what.”

“What?” Dean asked sarcastically. “You were a loser in the real world, and you’re a loser here? Shocker.”

Gerry glowered at him. “Would a loser track down a real book of spells and compel a fairy to do his bidding?”

“It depends,” Sam muttered. “How’d you get it?”

“eBay.”

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned down so only you could hear him. “You got a gun on you?”

You shook your head slightly. “Nope. This dress wasn’t exactly made for packing.”

Dean sent a silent head shake to Sam who nodded and cleared his throat. “Look. It doesn’t have to be like this, Boltar. Just hand over the book of spells. We can work this out.”

“This will all work out…” Gerry muttered as he bent down to pick up a fake sword. “After I remove you from the playing field and wipe Lady Y/N and the queen’s memories.”

“And, what?” you asked, stalling for time. “You’re going to kill them with that thing?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Gerry said with a smile. “Gilda?”

Gilda sighed and closed her eyes, only for the fake sword in Gerry’s hand to turn very, very real. Sam and Dean immediately began to move, Sam going for Gerry while Dean covered you.

Gerry looked almost bored as he gestured at Sam. “Gilda, the big one.”

In an instant, a suit of armor came alive, grabbing Sam from behind. Charlie took the opportunity to charge at Gerry with a fake sword, but he easily threw her on the bed.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, picking up a fake sword of his own. “Get Charlie and get out of here!”

He rushed forward, swinging at Gerry, but Gerry’s real sword easily cut Dean’s in half. You and Gilda ran to Charlie while Sam continued to struggle with the suit of armor and Dean did his best to block Gerry’s attacks with a metal shield.

“Gilda!” you cried. “You have to do something. He’s going to kill them!”

“We can’t stop him. The book – you must destroy it.”

You looked back to where Dean and Gerry were still fighting. A book had fallen to the floor by their feet. “Charlie, the book!”

You both moved in an instant, with Charlie reaching the book first. She lifted it off the ground and held a dagger over it. “Hey, Gerry. I’m the one who saves damsels in distress around here.”

“No!” Gerry yelled. He turned to stop her as she raised the dagger over her head, but you moved to block him, standing right between his sword and Charlie. At the exact second that Charlie’s dagger hit the book, Gerry’s sword pierced your abdomen.

“Y/N! NO!!!!” Dean screamed, running to you as your body buckled, bathed in the bright light from the book. He reached out his arms and caught you, strong and steady, pulling you into him in one fluid motion.

“Dean…” you whispered softly, the pain in your abdomen spreading quickly.

“Just hold on, Y/N,” he pleaded. “You’re gonna be ok. I got you. Just hold on.”

“No!!” Gerry yelled, blanching when he’d seen what he’d done. “No, Y/N, no…”

In an instant, his blood-stained sword turned back into a fake one, only for a freed Sam to immediately snatch it and use the butt to knock him out. Charlie dropped the book and rushed to your side.

“Y/N! No….”

“Charlie….” you breathed out, unable to say much more. Dean’s arms tightened around you. You were fading fast.

Tears started to gather in Charlie’s eyes as Sam dropped to his knees by her side. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I lied to you about who I was. You’re my best friend, I should’ve told you the truth, I should’ve…”

“Shhh…It’s okay. I don’t blame you, Charlie. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she cried as you turned your eyes to meet Dean’s.

“Y/N, please, don’t…” he pleaded, his voice coming out gruff and labored with unshed tears.

“It’ll be okay, Dean. I wish we had more time, but it’ll be okay.”

“No!” he yelled. “You can’t die! Not now, not like this.”

“And, die she won’t,” Gilda announced, moving to stand by Charlie. “Allow me.”

Charlie moved aside to let Gilda hover her hands over your wound. As you and Dean watched in awe, your wound healed magically, taking all the pain away in an instant.

“Thank God,” Charlie breathed out while Dean hung his head in obvious relief, his hold on you decreasing slightly but not breaking.

With Dean’s help, you carefully sat up and looked at Gilda. “Thank you,” you stammered, your voice full of sincerity.

Gilda smiled. “You are the one I should be thanking. Thanks to all of you, I’m free of the spell. You saved me. This was the least I could do to return the favor.”

Dean helped you stand up while you returned her smile. “So, what now?” you asked, leaning into Dean as you regained your strength.

“Now, I return home. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins.”

“Wait,” Charlie yelled as she grabbed Gilda and pulled her into a heated kiss. “Thank you.”

Gilda smiled one last time before disappearing in an array of twinkling, shimmering lights. Gerry’s body disappeared right along with her in a puff of smoke.

“Call me… maybe?” Charlie shouted into the air, inducing a laugh out of you, your body shaking softly against Dean’s.

“Come on,” Dean said, taking your hand and gently leading you out of the tent. “Let’s get out of here.”

By the time you made it back to the Moondoor camp, it was nearing midnight, and you were exhausted.

Despite your assurances that you were healed, Dean had insisted on carrying you the last half mile, only letting you walk when you hit the edge of the forest. He accompanied you to the tent Charlie had procured for you, only truly letting his guard down once you were safely inside.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked tentatively.

“I’m fine, Dean, I promise. Gilda healed me completely. I’m as good as new.”

“Okay, but…”

“Dean,” you whispered, stopping him with a feather light touch to his chest that immediately quieted him. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

“Okay…” he breathed back, matching your whispered tone with one of his own.

“So, what happens next?” you asked. “I mean, I’m assuming you two leave again, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, stepping closer to you and gently placing his hand on your cheek. “But, I’m sure we’ll be back. I mean, with both you and Charlie here, why would we stay away?”

“Right,” you muttered quietly. You tried to look down, but Dean held your chin firmly.

“Y/N, this is not going to be the last time we see each other. Not even close. Trust me, now that I’ve met you, I have no intention of letting this go.”

You could feel your face brightening. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he echoed with a smile. “But, promise me one thing.”

“Yes?” you asked breathlessly as Dean moved even closer, until his lips were just inches from yours.

“Promise me you won’t go around getting yourself stabbed anymore.”

You started to laugh lightly at his words, but you sobered up when you saw Dean’s intense expression. “I’m serious, Y/N. I know we just met this morning, but I care about you. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if Gilda hadn’t been there. If you died…”

“Shh…” you murmured, holding one finger up to his lips. “I promise.”

Before Dean could say another word, you leaned up, closing the short gap between the two of you, and claiming his lips in a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, walking you backwards to the bed before lifting you up slightly so you could wrap your legs around his strong thighs. You fell together onto the bed, a tangle of legs and arms coming together as one for the first of you hoped would be many times to come.

The next morning, you, Sam, and Dean were back in your street clothes, walking through the camp with Charlie, you and Dean hand in hand.

“So what’s next for you, Charlie?” Sam asked. “New town? New identity?”

“No way,” Charlie laughed. “I’m staying right here, with Y/N. If the last 24 hours have taught me anything, it’s that escaping isn’t what it used to be. No more replacement characters for me. I got to face reality from now on. Sadly, reality actually includes monsters, but what are you gonna do?” she added with a smile. “If I can ever be of help to you guys, let me know.”

“Will do,” Dean said. He glanced down at you. “Especially since we’re going to be coming back here pretty often.” You smiled as he turned back to Charlie. “And you, uh… you’re good?”

“Apart from the fact that you blocked me from banging a fairy, and I’m about to go lose my crown in battle, thanks to my army being decimated? Yeah. Totally good.” She turned around, holding her hands up in a Vulcan salute. “Smell you later, bitches.”

You laughed as Charlie walked away and Dean snaked his arm around your waist. “You know, I might have an idea of how to help Charlie keep her crown.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked. “And what’s that?”

You pulled away from Dean and extended your hand back to him. “Follow me.”

He followed you with a laugh, Sam close behind, and twenty minutes later, the three of you were standing on the battlefield, dressed in full army garb, ready to help Charlie defend her throne.

Dean, with the long-hair of his wig fluttering in the wind and his face painted red and white, stood in the front, addressing the army with the speech from Braveheart.

“It’s the only one he knows,” Sam muttered, his hair in a ponytail as he stood next to you and Charlie.

“And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance. Just one chance to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they will never take…”

“Hold!” yelled a squire, interrupting Dean’s speech. A frisbee sailed onto the field, followed by a man running after it.

“Uh, my bad,” the man yelled before running away.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to the squire, getting the signal to continue. He raised his wooden sword and shook it in the sky. “…our freedom!”

“Our freedom!” you echoed, holding your sword up in solidarity as you took off running at Sam and Dean’s sides. You knew that, while this battle might be fake, it wasn’t going to be the last you ran into at Dean’s side.

You couldn’t wait.


End file.
